Hard "2" Believe, But True PV Simon Kincaid Closed

Domestic Goddess in the Making @Simon Kincaid

2 April 2024

The lemons, about 15 of them, had been freshly squeezed just for Simon. Her father watched her, looking somewhat bemused when he asked her why she was making lemonade for breakfast. He arched a brow when she reported that she was not making lemonade as there would be no sugar added. In that instant, the crisp slice of bacon which had been on its way to being devoured just seconds earlier, was seemingly forgotten in the moment as the journey between plate and Iain's McCubbin's mouth had completely stalled. "Are you making a marinade for half a side of beef then, lass?"

AngelFyre giggled and just shook her head. "No, Daddy. It is for Simon. He likes lemons, but not sweet drinks or foods. I thought he might like this as opposed to say, orange or apple juice with his breakfast." No sooner had she finished that statement than the Handsome Hufflepuff himself entered the kitchen greeting her parents. Iain McCubbin could only initially nod his good morning to Simon as the slice of bacon, no longer forgotten, had quickly made its way to a masticated demise, but her mother responded. "Good morning, Simon. I hope you slept well. Excuse me, please. I have a phone conference in about two minutes. If I don't see you both before you leave, have a safe and happy trip. And oh! Happy Anniversary to the both of you," and she kissed AngelFyre's forehead before leaving the kitchen.

They both expressed their thanks for the wishes, and then she watched in delight as Simon picked up the pitcher and filled a glass, drinking the lemon juice without so much as a furrowed brow to indicate he had noticed sour had been substituted for sweetness. Her father watched as he drank it straight, and just shook his head in amazement as he took a sip of his own coffee. "It is no problem at all, lad. I had to go to the station myself, but my train will be heading in the opposite direction, so you shall both be deprived of my witty company. Your loss, I am afraid," and he grinned widely at them.

AngelFyre had just finished her final touches on Simon's pancake breakfast, with a side of many, many crispy strips of bacon, when he made specific mention regarding the current stock of his lemon drops stash. She immediately did an inverse pucker of her lips because he was just taunting her now. Guess he definitely did notice the lemon juice after all, but now all she wanted was one of his lemon drops. He had not looked down at his plate yet as his eyes were still locked on hers, twinkling brightly because he knew the inner turmoil (aka anticipation), she was now facing. Her father, completely clueless as to what was going on before him, just chuckled as he observed quite soberly, "You were not kidding. He really does have a fondness for lemons." Pushing back his breakfast stool, he took one last sip of his coffee, draining his cup dry. "Okay, you two. We have about 40 minutes before we need to be in the car and heading out. Do not be late. I will leave without you," he smirked as he said the words but simultaneously shook his head 'No'.

"You know we will be on time, Daddy," and she teasingly rolled her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue as he left them. "I saw that!" he called over his shoulder and laughed as he continued towards his office. Turning her full attention back to Simon, she smiled brightly, nodding her head in the direction of his plate. "See! What did I tell ya? Domestic Goddess in the making," and she handed him a fork and held onto one for herself. "I know you said only one pancake, but I wanted to make these bunny pancakes for all of us on Easter morning and did not get the chance because of the pancake breakfast after church services, so this is the next best thing. Mine are definitely cuter, are they not?"

She gently pushed the platter of crispy bacon his way, knowing he would much prefer that, but helped herself to one of the bunny ears. "I thought you might want a little help with this," and she deftly cut the bunny ear in half with the side of her fork and then stabbed it with the tines. "Sorry, Bunbun," she said with some remorse before sweeping the fork in Simon's direction and then abruptly changing course, delivered the buttermilk-rich goodness to her own mouth. He had opened his mouth in expectation of the forkful coming at him, and kept it open for a couple of Mississippis before smirking at her. "So it's going to be like that, huh?" and he lifted a bite of the bunny's leg to his mouth.

"Yes, it is going to be like that. You knew very well what your lemon drop pronouncement would do to me, and in front of my father no less, you shameless tease" and she tsk tsk'd at him a couple of times playfully while looking at him sideways. "But here. Since I am a very forgiving girlfriend, please let me make it up to you," and she reached over to the platter for a strip of bacon. This time she did feed it to him, in a manner of speaking, as she placed it, not between her fingers, but between her lips. Her eyes and her smile became an open invitation to him. It was a look he was very familiar with and one he did not hesitate to accept, even while under her father's roof.

An hour and a half later, the two lovebirds found themselves snuggled together on the train. AngelFyre was beside herself with excitement as she turned towards her beloved Mr. Kincaid. "Normally I would keep this all to myself until we get to where we are going, but the trip is going to be almost three hours and I just cannot hold it in," and she began to bounce sit in her seat next to him. "Remember when you were here last time and I showed you the Kincaid Clan tartan in Mr. Simpson's shoppe window? We talked a little that day about the Kincaid Clan's famous history, and I mentioned that a Kincaid is reputed to have been the reason that the Scottish were able to take Edinburgh Castle back from the English," and at that she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Sorry, love. I know very well you are English, but I am Scottish, so I thoroughly approve of the whupping your lot was given at the hands of your Scottish ancestors. Annnnnnyway, all of these connections have had me enthralled for quite some time as you might imagine."

Nearly panting, AngelFyre stopped her rapid fire soliloquy long enough to take a deep breath, kiss Simon on the cheek again, and begin to dig around in her enchanted satchel. "I discovered what I am about to show you back in early October. I have been so close to telling you any number of times, about it, because I think it is freaking remarkable, and I think you will think so, too. I hope so, anyway." As he sat there calmly, displaying all of his English reserve, she took hold of his hand and opened it up, handing him a photo of the most recent Chief of Clan Kincaid.

As predicted, he looked it over with little to no understanding as to why she would be showing him this woman, until his eyes alighted upon her name. "Arabella. Her name is Arabella Kincaid?" he questioned as if not believing what he had just read. AngelFyre could do nothing but smile. "It is indeed. And I have planned a day that will have us visit the old Lennox Kincaid Castle, parts of which date back to the 13th century, tour the new Castle which will give more history of the Kincaids, have a picnic somewhere along the way, and there is a slim chance, if you are interested, we may be able to meet the Clan Chief herself as I happen to know that she will be in the area on clan business. Turns out she lives in England, just like you, but in Shropshire, close to the Welsh border. Go figure."

AngelFyre finally collapsed into his arms, minding her manners as a delightful elderly couple had been sitting across from them since Simon and AngelFyre had boarded the train in Dunbar. She was vibrating with excitement until a horrible thought crossed her mind. "It just occurred to me. We go to school in a castle nine months of the year. Traipsing through a couple of more is likely not going to be the most inspirational day for you, is it?" she sat up and asked him, her voice heavy with worry.

This was now a worry on top of another. Simon had no way of knowing it, but today was the day she planned on asking him if he would would ever consider wearing a kilt at their wedding. She knew her boy well, but she honestly did not know what his answer would be to this big ask of hers. She smiled across at the elderly woman holding her husband's hand and took comfort in knowing that whether Simon did, or did not, wish to wear a kilt to his own wedding was not going to detract from the years of love and friendship and unbridled happiness AngelFyre saw ahead of them.

Now was not the time to start sweating the petty things, and she squeezed his hand three times and rested easy.

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Of Heroes and Prickers @Simon Kincaid

2 April 2024

Relief put up its steady hand and halted the progress of all worry that she might have planned an anniversary celebration so boring that it would put even her insomniac of a dhampir to sleep when Simon reflexively spouted off, "Going with you anywhere is a win." Even better was his follow-on reference to them having found each other in a castle.

"So true. Me standing, mesmerized, in an open doorway, listening to some gorgeous guitar strumming, never worked out so well for anyone, anywhere, in the history of forever I am quite certain," and she smiled thoughtfully as she felt him squeeze her hand before kissing it. She calmly rested her head upon his shoulder and looked aimlessly ahead of her, thinking about how those moments... that day... had changed her life; had changed both of their lives. She chuckled a bit to herself, remembering it all, as Simon was looking out the window.

She had committed their whole first exchange to memory, including what she had done and had been feeling prior to meeting him. It had been a normal school day, but being back at Hogwarts after having been home for the holidays felt miserable. AngelFyre had felt restless and cooped up. She had even made a snow angel in the Courtyard minutes before opening up the barrel door to their Common Room and coming face to face with her future. She had wanted a change, and boy, did she ever get one. Then she got tickled with herself as a silly pun came to mind when she thought, and boy, did she ever get the boy! It was not at all the change she had been looking for or expecting when it happened, but that was in God's hands. His timing, as always, was perfect.

"I cannot believe that her name is Arabella." The sound of his voice drifted into her consciousness and AngelFyre slow blinked as Simon's words beckoned her back to the here and now. A low, languorous mew of soft contentment escaped her lips as she turned her head, still resting on his shoulder, while letting her fingers slowly run up and down his thigh as they both studied the photo together. "Yeah, it was... is... uncanny. When I first saw her photo, I thought she was quite a handsome woman, and was loving that a woman was the Kincaid Clan Chief. Then I looked a little farther down and saw her name, and I swear, Simon, I had to read it five times to make sure I had read it correctly. I mean, honestly... it still gives me shivers. You have no idea how many times I have almost broken down and told you,” and she squeezed his thigh, thinking only how proud she was of herself for keeping her excitement at bay for so long. “That was so much harder to keep to myself than surprising you with the Austrian ski trip ever was.” She then lifted her head and nuzzled his ear while whispering, “No one can ever say I cannot keep a secret, me darlin’ lad,” and the nuzzling stopped when she decided to plant a kiss on his cheek before resting her head back down on his shoulder, following his gaze out the window to the passing countryside.

***********

Her father had hired a driver by the name of Garrett to meet them at the train station and taxi them about during their stay in Kirkintilloch, and Lennoxtown. He had a terribly sweet, and somewhat meek disposition that reminded AngelFyre very much of an actor long dead by the name of Wally Cox. She had “roughly” planned out their itinerary and had given a copy to Garrett upon getting into the car. “We will be going to Kincaid House first,” she told Simon as they both belted up. “It is the clan seat, or was?” she half said and half questioned. "That part I am a little unclear on right now. The web site said it is currently owned and operated as a family run business, but whether that family is of the Kincaid family tree escapes me. I guess we can find out once we get there,” and she smiled brightly at him, looking forward to getting some answers to some questions.

There were answers found soon enough, and as almost inevitably happens, those answers led to more questions. In a short conversation with a young lady by the name of Gillian, who looked to be in her early 20s and was manning the Reception desk, AngelFyre and Simon quickly found out that Kincaid House, designated as an ‘A’ listed country house and wedding venue, was currently closed for business as it was up for sale. The current owners, not rooted from the Clan Kincaid family tree as it turned out, had run and operated the business for 47 years and were now wishing to retire. Gillian, to AngelFyre's surprise, was kindly agreeable to the notion of allowing them to browse through the small museum, especially after AngelFyre introduced Simon to her as a Kincaid in search of some family history.

“Simon, here, is a Kincaid himself, but of the English variety. Try not to hold that against him though, as his British accent is just so fabulous,” and she sighed dreamily, turning her attention to her fellow for the moment. Focusing once again on the matter at hand, she addressed Gillian directly. “He is as Kincaid as they come, I promise,” and she crossed her heart with her right hand quickly and then held it up in oath taking form while squeezing Simon’s hand with her left one three times. Gillian listened intently and then teased him about needing proof of his Kincaid-ness, stating flatly that she would need to see his ID before breaking out in a merry giggle. As she came out from behind the desk, she motioned with her hand to both of them. “Follow me, then.” So they did.

She personally escorted them to a room that was about the size of the Small Hall at Hogwarts. The windowless room was a little dark, but not dingy in the least. The walls were painted a slightly greyed peacock blue, and the coffered ceiling was painted in a complimentary dove grey, with recessed lighting directed on the exhibits throughout. It was not a vast display, but there was still a lot to see and to read. A rather imposing portrait of William Francis Kincaid, the hero responsible for taking back Edinburgh Castle from the English in 1314, caught AngelFyre's eye upon entering the room. Beneath the large, gilded frame was a golden plaque that had his name, the year it happened, and the clan motto that was spawned from the incident: This I’ll Defend.

AngelFyre was beside herself when she learned why William Kincaid had been chosen by the Earl of Moray to guide the little party of 32 men against the English garrisoned at the castle. It was because of love. Kincaid knew the rocky terrain of the castle intimately as he had scaled it many times to visit his sweetheart, Bess, in the town below. “Wow. Some apples do not fall far from the tree, even 710 years later, eh? They just may roll a good distance away after landing is all,” and she hip checked her loverboy playfully. “Tell the truth now. Would you have risked punishment and repeatedly scaled the castle walls to visit me in the town below? Hmmmmmm?” She waited quite patiently during an interminably long two (and a half!) nanoseconds for Simon to respond before she finally jumped in and answered her own question. “Oh, who are we kidding. We both know I would likely be the one hiking up Castle Rock every night and scaling the castle walls to get to your handsome self!” and she batted her eyelashes at him. “Shameless, I know, but the heart wants what it wants,” she stated while smiling and turning her attention back to the displays memorializing other notable Kincaids, "and this heart definitely wants you."

A good while passed in silence, well, near-silence, as her Kinetic Kincaid often tapped on displays as he read them. It just made AngelFyre smile and made Simon, well... Simon. They had decided to split up and look at different things so they could cover more ground. Then she came upon something horrifying. “Simon, check this out, love! There was a John Kincaid in the 1640s who was, and I am not joking, a Witch Pricker, by trade. It is as horrible as it sounds. He literally would accuse women, and a few men, of being witches and sorcerers, and then prick their “mark” with needles to see if they felt any pain on the mark or bled from it. He, like many others of the time, believed that witches carried a witch’s mark that felt no pain if pricked. Since his income was derived from rooting out witches, he accused a good many over a recorded 14 years who were then labeled, "tried", and murdered as witches. But it was a cheat. The needles used on the witch marks were blunted and would recede into the hollow handles when pressed upon the marks. To prove someone was not a witch, he would use sharp, real instruments to draw blood.” She had her eyes on the pages and was shaking her head slowly in sadness that people could be so depraved.

“The good news is that folks finally caught on to his ruse, and he was stopped in the 1660s, but what an awful legacy. It looks like he did the bulk of his business in my neck of the woods. He is first mentioned in historical records at a trial that took place in North Berwick, the place we went geocaching the other day. Yet one more little intersection of our past with our present,” and she grasped his hand and squeezed it three times. "I love learning all those little things that may have brought us to where we are today, which is together," and she leaned over to kiss him properly.

“I am starving. We can certainly stay longer if you wish. I am in no hurry, but if you do wish to stay, I need to run out to the car to get a quick snack. If you are ready to leave though, I have chosen a beautiful, shaded place near a babbling brook of a waterfall for a picnic. Mom has dragged me to a few photo shoots there, and I thought it would be a perfect place for us to get some alone time,” and she raised her eyebrows at him a couple of times as her smile tracked across her face, finally resting in her sparkling eyes. "I even have some juicy, rare, steak kebabs for you, if you are hungry at all,” and a little something else she thought to herself, but that would all come later.

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To Kilt A Balking Bird @Simon Kincaid

2 April 2024

Garrett parked the car at the trailhead and Simon and AngelFyre gathered their things. Before taking off, AngelFyre left a tasty box lunch for Garrett, containing a combination of everything that she, the vegetarian, and Simon, the meat eater, would be enjoying a little later themselves. The only critical difference was that Garret’s kebabs were not quite as rare as those she had set aside especially for Simon. She told him they would be gone for at least a couple of hours most likely, and that they would be going to the waterfall and nowhere else. Her father had insisted that she keep Garrett in the loop, so Garrett was now, officially, looped. “We both have our cell phones with us if something comes up. See you in a while,” and with that, Simon and AngelFyre took off up the path.

“It is normally about a 30 minute, easy hike,” she mentioned before pointing to the faintly darker area in the tree line about a mile ahead of them. “ but today I imagine we will be there in 15 minutes, if not sooner. That is where we will be heading, but I suggest we jog over,” she said as she looked out and up, shielding her sunglass-covered eyes with her free hand from even more glare. The sun had long ago burned off the early-morning haze and the cool, grey, cloud cover they had enjoyed on the train ride to Glasgow. Simon also looked up and smiled, his eyes and head long ago covered before he had even stepped out of the car.

They quickly ran across the open field, but when they got to the pathway entrance, AngelFyre just had to turn around to listen to the whispering breeze ripple through the timothy hay and alfalfa, creating the most elegant, choreographed undulations in the ocean of green grasses. It was spectacular. “Now, once we leave these rolling fields, we are obviously going to enter the wooded area. I tell you this most obvious of things as a matter that may be of some import to your dhampy self,” and her voice took on a serious demeanor. To emphasize that he should take her seriously, she placed her hands on his shoulders and turned him towards her.

“This is where we get to learn how much you take after your fath -…” and she shook her head, halting her speech immediately. “I am sorry love. Some days that word, referring to that particular person in your life, comes easier than others. Today is not one of those “easier” days for me, I suppose,” and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Annnnnnyway, we are about to trek through a literal forest of… drum roll, please… wild garlic,” and she laughed happily out loud, all seriousness melting away. “Please be sure to let me know if there is some odd power that prevents you from moving forward (and the strong aroma of garlic does not, in and of itself, count). Or maybe you suddenly feel the urge to sweep your arm up as if you were wearing a cloak and magically transform yourself into a bat so that you can fly far, far away from the garlic. If any of that strikes a note of familiarity with you, speak up. Otherwise, I will just leave the seared garlic cloves on your steak kebabs as an aromatic that you can brush off later on if you are hungry,” and she winked at him.

When they got to the waterfall just a few minutes later, she quickly spread out the picnic blanket and the food. Simon helped her and before long they were finally relaxing and enjoying their surroundings. Hogwarts was beautiful, but there was no waterfall as a backdrop for romantic picnics. His head was in her lap and her fingers were lazily combing through his hair, but his eyes kept darting over to the falls and the small cave to the side of it. He asked her about her mother and their photoshoots here, but her interest was immediately sparked when she felt him reaching in his pocket for his phone. He sat up and then took a few snaps of them cheek to cheek and one of him kissing her cheek, and then the boy sent literal electric shivers down her spine when he breathed down the back of her neck while saying her name s l o w l y . It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. It had every nerve end firing which made her shoulder automatically raise of its own accord as if it was trying to eject her handsome lad as far away as possible, but at the moment it looked as if it might be unintentionally successful, her hand reached up and behind his head, bringing it back down for a repeat performance.

Call her Oliver Twist because all she could think in those live wire moments was ‘Please, Sir, I want some more.’ And as Simon was always one to give her her heart’s desire if it was within his power to do so, he… well… did give her more. He swept her off her feet and before she could even offer up a protestation… not that she would have… he held her close as he allowed them to simply fall into the swirling, deep eddy close to their picnic blanket. The water was clear and quite a bit more bracing than the water in her streams and river at home. When they both came up for air, a yelp escaped her lips, but it just echoed around them, and they both laughed. He pulled her closer to him and started warming her up all over again, and that is when she decided it was probably a good time to take him over to the cave.

“You can easily see the cave to the side of the falls, but what you cannot see from here is that it dips down on the left and takes you to a space large enough to stand in and raise your hands over your head, though why you would want to is beyond me. But the view, Simon, when there is a spring runoff and the river is flowing high, is one of the most beautiful curtains of water to stand behind while marveling at the beauty on the other side. Come on. I have wanted to show this to you for a while,” and she grabbed his hand tightly as they splash walked over to the “dry” cave before dipping down into the larger cavern.

“I love this place. I admit I have normally been here when there was a bit more water coming over, but you get the idea, I hope. When it really flows, there is a refreshing, almost ghostly mist that permeates everything in here and out there in the pool where the water hits. Then turning to look at the rock walls, she could see the remnants of past lovers who had also visited this place and had been very patient and prepared because initials of more than 15 couples by her count had been chiseled into the walls. She moved to the wall, still holding Simon’s hand, and ran the fingers of her other hand over some of the hearts. “F. G. + T. R.” she whispered. Moving farther along the wall, another whisper, even fainter this time. “CB & RS”. When they came upon the fourth carving, she brought his hand up and together they traced the initials, but this time it was done in silence.

AM
+
SK

She turned to look at him looking at the wall, then he turned to her, water droplets clinging to the ends of his hair and glistening in the light they could catch.

“When? How?” he asked her, looking a little perplexed. Then she watched him turn his dhampir gaze upon the carving again and figure it out on his own as a smile lifted up the corners of his lips. “I did not do it, but I think you now know that. As you can see, it has been here a while. Mom and I were looking over some of her old work shoots during Christmas when we were missing Grandma Ruth. She used to come on these shoots, too, until about three years ago. In any case, while Mom and I were looking over the shots she did not use, I saw those initials carved into the wall. I swear my eyes were drawn to them, Simon. It was uncanny.”

A shiver from the dampness and cold made her quiver, so she moved into his strong embrace. Simon was not especially warm himself, and even less so in those moments, but it was her favorite place to be regardless. “Come on, Handsome. I am beginning to get a little too chilled. That picnic blanket is sounding pretty good to wrap up in right now. Care to join me?”

They started to head back to the blanket when Simon gently tugged her back for a moment. “Let’s see if we can get a decent photo of the two of us to the side of our intials. Would be a crime to leave here without one,” he grinned as they posed and he took the photo.

Finally back at the blanket and wrapped up together beneath its soft warmth, AngelFyre reached for her satchel and brought out a loosely wrapped gift in dark and light blue geometics with golden accents throughout. “Happy 2nd Anniversary, mo chridhe (my heart). This may actually come in handy in a the next few minutes,” and she chuckled as she handed it over to him. When he unwrapped it, he found it was a black hoodie with the Clan Kincaid’s motto, ‘This I’ll Defend”, sitting above a bit of the modern clan tartan. “Cotton is the 2nd Anniversary, so there you go. Enjoy,” and she leaned over to kiss him far longer than her father would have liked, but not nearly as long as either of them would have preferred.

If she had not been so nervous about what still lay ahead, she likely would have wrenched it from his hands and replaced her wet top with his hoodie, but the cold was not even in her top 10 list of things to concern herself with in the moment. She said a quick, silent prayer before starting in on the prelude to her big ask.

Clearing her throat a little nervously, she began. “It turns out that your girl had a few moments of senioritis when I came up with this brilliant plan some time back,” and she waved her hand around them briefly. “I got so caught up in my plans that I forgot one pretty critical thing, which you shall see in one moment. Close your eyes, please, and wait for my say so before opening them, okay?”

“Of course. Anything for you, love,” and he dutifully closed his eyes. She reached into her satchel two more times, but the second time she brought out 8 yards of the Ancient Clan Kincaid tartan, made of the finest, softest, wool. It was actually quite heavy, and her mind did spare a thought to being happy that it was going to be hauled around from this point forward by he-of-the-super-human-strength sitting next to her. She placed it on top of her satchel and told him to keep his eyes closed. Then she kissed each of his eyelids, just because.

On the spur of the moment, she thought it would make the moment even more perfect if she were to get on bended knee. She quickly peeled herself away from Simon and the warmth of the blanket and placed the Comb of Vanity, which she had also grabbed from her satchel, into her hair. She had looked fairly nice before being dunked like a donut in the river, but she knew Simon thought she was beautiful with wet or dry or even messy hair. Her hair was not going to be his focus. Still, this was going to be a “moment” and she wanted to try to look her best.

Now in position, she took his hands in both of hers and let all four of them rest on top of his lap. “It is no secret to you by now that I like to plan things for you… for us… and I like to try and surprise you when I can. The first time you visited me over a Spring Break a couple of years ago, I introduced you to your clan tartan,” and she laughed, “and teased you about my suspicion that you might be bow-legged as a method for getting your unbelievably gorgeous self into a kilt to prove me wrong,” and she chuckled while he protested, through his own laughter. “AngelFyre, love, you know I’m not bow-legged. You’ve seen my sexy legs first hand,” and even though he was trying to be firm, his whole face was wearing one big Simon smile.

“Yes. Yes. So you like to tell me,” she retorted back at him in her theatrically skeptical tone which she knew he would recognize as nothing but playful. “The question of your bow-leggedness is not really the matter at hand, however, and fun as that is to contemplate, I truly do have something serious to ask you,” and she leaned over to softly press a kiss on the back of his hand.

“Simon, my dove, I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone or anything. You truly are my everything on this Earth, and there is nothing… nothing… in my life that is not colored with thoughts and hopes and dreams of you and our life together as it is now, and as it will be all of the rest of our days. But there is one day in particular I have been dreaming about quite a lot recently, and it is our wedding day. We can thank Aunt Maggie for the lion’s share of that, for obvious reasons, but our own conversations set me off on it too. We cannot speak about all of our other days, and having at least 12 children, without my thoughts naturally turning to that one particular day once in a while."

He said nothing, but his face had softened and he squeezed her hand three times. "Most girls probably spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about their wedding gown. Not me. I have been thinking about what a British lad would wear to marry a Scottish lass. A suit is nice, but surely we have been there done that. A classic black tuxedo would be better. In fact, I will likely forget to breathe the first time I ever see you in a tuxedo. But Simon Ezra Kincaid,” and her thumbs started caressing over the back of his hands as she spoke, “will you do me the great honour of wearing a traditional woolen, not cotton, Scottish tartan kilt to our wedding?” As soon as she said ‘wedding”, she released her hands from his and then placed the yards of tartan onto his lap.

Her voice had been strong and surprisingly even, belying the nervousness she truly felt at making the request. She had no idea how this was going to go over with him, but he truthfully had never seemed too keen on kilts. It was important to her, of course, but it would be Simon’s wedding as much as hers, so she would respect her dove’s choice if it was something he absolutely did not want to wear.

“Okay, you may look now.” She waited for his eyes to adjust and to focus. He smiled appreciatively as he seemed to first notice her hair and then he looked down at what was in his lap as his fingers had already been roaming back and forth over it. “This is obviously different than the tartan Mr. Simpson had displayed in his shop window that day. That kilt was made of the modern Kincaid tartan. I think that version is probably a little too bright and too green for the both of us, so I thought you may appreciate this grayed out version of it a little better?” she asked hopefully and nervously as her voice cracked just the slightest at the end. “This is 8 yards of the Ancient Clan Kincaid tartan. It is enough for one traditional wedding kilt, or dozens of sock pairs and baby booties if need be,” and she smiled uncertainly at him, desperate to hear his answer, but scared to hear it as well.

As she crouched there on bended knee before him, she managed to think how appropriate it was that cotton was the fabric of choice for this anniversary. Even though she had given Simon wool (and one cotton hoodie!), her own mouth was cotton dry from nerves, and her tongue felt like it had thickened and was sticking to the roof of her mouth.

Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes.

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Simon and AngelFyre's writers have longstanding permission to godmod each other's characters.